


Fearing Abnormalities (Roman's Prologue)

by eccentric__works



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Other, Rising Over Skylines
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-27 21:18:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20414461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eccentric__works/pseuds/eccentric__works
Summary: Thomas Sanders lives in a world where having strange powers are not uncommon. However, they are punishable at the hands of a large corporation known as CASTE. In a world where being abnormal is a fate worse than death, Thomas Sanders exists as such, with his only sanctuary coming in the form of a young boy with golden wings.





	Fearing Abnormalities (Roman's Prologue)

**Author's Note:**

> While this is Roman's prologue, much of Roman's story is based around the origins of infamous superhero Thomas Sanders, so this heavily revolves around Thomas' past.

Harborview was nothing more than another city in a long line of obsessively, hurriedly built urbanized areas, built in a panic to best cope with an ever-growing population in an ever-collapsing economy.  
The city has once been nothing more than a small fishing town affectionately named Harborview for the salt-stained piers reaching out into frothy oceans. Barnacled boats bobbed at the town’s shoreline, careening to one side with the weight of nets plump with fish. Few, but for the regular fishermen who made a living off catching fish and selling them to local shops, stayed there permanently. The town was more motel than permanent home, and many who came did so to sail out into the ocean, or buy some particularly organic bait, or sit out on the piers with loved ones to watch the sun paint the ocean gold as it sank deeper and deeper into the horizon. Then, they would pack their things back into vehicles and drive off in the direction of a less salty, more densely-populated area to quench their need for non-seafood centric meals or air which wasn’t littered with salt water and fish.  
To the many fishermen who did call Harborview their permanent home, the sight of visitors leaving by the end of the day was always a relief. While many of the shopkeepers knew the tourists were valuable for a running business, no one wished for them to overextend their welcomes. They all lived in fear of visitors learning their small town’s secret; that being that their town was heavily populated by Eccentrics who had come to use the small, off the map town as a refuge from CASTE.  
Jeremiah Sanders was one such Eccentric. He had been born in the town just as his father had been, and just as many generations would come to be as well. While many Eccentrics were sure to keep any abnormalities close to their chests, such a concern wasn’t upheld in Harborview. He, like many of his fellow fishermen, used his powers freely and without hesitation. After all, he had been born Eccentric. He had been gifted eccentricities—powers far greater than any human capability—and to not use them seemed a waste. Jeremiah Sanders was an Eccentric, and he was happy in Harborview.  
That was, until one such visitor outed to CASTE the large number of Eccentrics which did take haven in Harborview. In the course of a few decades CASTE—a Corporation of Analysis, Specialization, and Testing of Eccentrics—became integrated into life at Harborview, and soon the inhabitants of this small town were sporting tags forcibly clipped onto their ears, conveying to all who saw them that they were different. Abnormal. Eccentric.  
For this reason, Jeremiah was relieved to discover, upon his son’s birth, that he was not Eccentric. Young Theodore Sanders had been the upmost example of normal the family had ever seen and, for that reason, became one of the first to permanently inhabit Harborview without need for a tag.  
Theodore would not be the last, though. Seeing the potential for business, CASTE eventually integrated a permanent location in Harborview, and with them populations followed. Businesses built, citizens bought apartments, and over the course of Theodore’s life he watched what his father had once affectionately called a small town evolve into a metropolitan area.  
Air which once smelled of salt turned musty and thick with smoke. Waters once crystal clear turned brown and littered. Many fishermen who once spent their days on the piers or on ships, casting out lines and nets, eventually moved away in the direction of fish, leaving the piers to grow soggy under disuse, and for ships abandoned by fishermen to be eventually taken hostage by the dirtied, soiled ocean.  
Regardless, Theodore found some enjoyment in their ever-changing city. He eventually fell in love with the daughter of a fisherman, Martha, another non-Eccentric who had refused to leave the city when her father had. Stubborn-headed and passionate, Theodore fell in love, a love which eventually resulted in a marriage, then a home, then, at last, a child.  
Relief had met Theodore and Martha when their young Thomas showed no signs of the abnormal. He was born a decently average size, with decently average brown eyes, a head of decently average blond hair which would turn brown in his lifetime, and decently average dimples framing a decently average smile. He learned to walk at an average age, learned to speak at an average rate, did average in school, made the average amount of friends, and grew up to have an average love of theatricals. In a world where being above average could result in you being CASTE’s property for the remainder of your lifetime, his parents were thrilled.  
Theodore and Martha spent much of Thomas’ early life determined he would remain average, a feat which would ultimately prove useless.  
Thomas had been fifteen when a few students from school—fellow cast members from his school’s production of West Side Story— invited him out after stage rehearsal. Thrilled at the aspect of being invited to hang out, he quickly phoned his mother letting her know he’d be home late and followed his new friends out towards the pier.  
For some time, the group only sat there, throwing stones into the water and catching trash which wadded by with sticks. They had managed a fairly impressive pile of waste removed by time Thomas became anxious enough to warrant asking, “What are we doing here?”  
One of the other boys—the senior at school who Thomas had been briefly jealous of when he had landed the role of Tony—only chuckled, patting Thomas on the back without meeting his gaze. “You’ve just gotta wait, Sanders.”  
“I know, it’s just that I told my mom I’d—”  
His words were cut off at sight of bubbling beneath the water’s surface. For a moment Thomas sat there in fear, terrified of someone jumping from the water as a prank, or a large fish bursting from the water and grabbing their dangling legs to pull them in, but no change came. In time, Thomas joined his companions on the edge of the pier, peering into the murky waters below.  
All Thomas could make out was the blurred, hazy image of a ring of gold glowing brightly from the water, like sunlight shining from beneath the ocean.  
In a breathy voice, Thomas sighed. “What is it?”  
“I dunno,” one of the other boys—the one who had been cast as Riff—said, “Why don’t you go check it out?”  
Thomas’ heart raced and he quickly backed away from the edge, eyes wide. “Why me?”  
“Aw, c’mon,” Tony said. “Think of it as an initiation. You poke the thing and we’ll, I dunno, put in a word with Mr. Hoppstead about getting you something more than an extra part in the next production.”  
Thomas looked down at the water churning in the night, the only light coming from beneath it. Every echoing consciousness in his head screamed at him to turn away, that no part was worth nearly dying, but the light wasn’t too far down. Surely, he could get to it and up in one breath. Plus, the waves weren’t too bad tonight.  
“I’m not sure…”  
“We’ll be right here for you, Sanders” Tony said. He smiled brightly, patting Thomas’ arm and Thomas felt something in his chest flutter.  
He stood up immediately, tearing off his shoes and socks and pealing his shirt off, knowing if he didn’t have dry clothes to change into the entire event would make him miserable. Then, with an affirming thumbs up by those around him, Thomas leapt into the water.  
Icy waves surrounded him immediately, and almost he gasped, loosing what breath he had. The water was salty and he slimy with grime, and when he opened his eyes to gather his bearings they stung. Still, comfort came to him at sight of the golden something just beneath him.  
He swam down towards it, finding it harder and harder to keep his eyes open both from the intensity of the light and the water stinging his face. Squinting, he pushed himself closer.  
He still wasn’t sure what it was, though. The water around the golden mass was warm, and as the mass swirled the water moved around it, a whirlpool of light sucking the water inside. Thomas had to grab onto one of the pier posts, using what little strength he had not to be sucked inwards. The sight of the mass was nothing less than comforting, and the warm water whispered to Thomas to fall asleep and sink in with it, but he had a mission.  
Trusting himself to tread water, Thomas released the post. He let the water pull him closer, and closer, dragging him towards the sight of the mass. For a moment, Thomas wondered if they were anxiously watching him above, wondering why he hadn’t come up for breath yet or preparing to call 911 incase anything went wrong. Pushing the thoughts from his head, Thomas touched it.  
What happened next was disorienting.  
The mass simultaneously exploded and imploded, both sucking water in far faster than earlier and expelling it all at once. Unfortunately for Thomas, the later was what affected him most and in a force which ripped the air from Thomas’ lungs he was thrown backwards. He shot out of the ocean in an geyser of water and landed hard on his back on the pier, his companions gathered around him.  
He was soaked, as were they from the expulsion of water, and while the cold air nipping at his skin was certainly a concern for Thomas, he couldn’t shake the knowledge that landing on the pier should have hurt like hell.  
Only, it hadn’t.  
It was a few weeks before Thomas had managed to figure it out.  
Suspicions had lingered in the times between them, however. Everyone in Harborview knew the dangers of interacting with strange phenomena no one could explain. Thomas could only assume that was why he had been pressed to investigate the glowing mass; he had been the test dummy. They had wanted to see if it were something which may have triggered the development of an eccentricity.  
For the next two weeks Thomas took care to ensure the upmost presence of normalcy within himself. Growing up, he had been surrounded with endless stories of individuals unaware that they had powers up until an accident occurred and only by instinct their eccentricities were triggered, leaving the individual entirely exposed to the whims of CASTE and the disgraces of those around them. Thomas took every precaution manageable to ensure he wouldn’t unknowingly trigger a now-dormant eccentricity and distress his family. Despite his care, though, they still came.  
He had been helping his mother with dinner, chopping vegetables when his hand slipped and the blade nicked his thumb. Thomas had winced, immediately pulling his hand away expecting to nurse a wound, but no blood spotted his finger. Instead, the blade itself had dented. It had been injured by him.  
It was Thomas’ decision to turn himself into CASTE. His parents had gone back and forth about it for weeks on end—mostly when they had been certain Thomas couldn’t hear—but every time they left out Thomas’ own opinion. Everyone knew delaying turning oneself into CASTE was a recipe for a higher tagging; CASTE saw reluctancy as synonymous with dishonesty, and a dishonest Eccentric is a dangerous one.  
So, it had been Thomas who had contacted the Collectors—a group dedicated to collecting Eccentrics and turning them into CASTE—and he had been marched from his home willingly and towards the towering building at the center of town where all CASTE agents resided.  
He would then go on to spend two weeks in CASTE’s possession, living in cramped cell-like quarters, being moved to and from interrogation rooms and science labs by CASTE’s lacky Controllers, being prodded, poked, and scrutinized all as a means of CASTE determining just how dangerous to the general public Thomas could be.  
That, Thomas thought, was the most ridiculous part of the entire endeavor. Throughout the ceaseless questionings and the undesirable experiments on himself which were ran, he wanted nothing more than to blurt out to those observing him that he was simply average. All his life his parents, his teachers, his friends had pushed him to take pride in what was surely a magnificent feat in this world.  
Perhaps that is why the next chain of events which occurred were so alarming.  
At the end of the two weeks—as is accustomed for every Eccentric brought in for tagging—Thomas was corralled into a small room empty but for a single table and a hanging light fixture which a man in a well-pressed suit sat behind. These procedures Thomas knew well, and while he was certain they would end in unavoidable pain, the comfort of being released back home in due time was far greater than that.  
However, that was not quite what happened.  
CASTE is quite proud of their system of tagging. Each Eccentric is to have a tag inserted onto the cartilage of their ear signify to those which were lucky enough to be born ordinary that this individual is different from them. The tag will be a certain color—red through purple—with red representing the most dangerous of Eccentrics and purple the most harmless. Each tag will then be etched with a number one through three. A one signifies an Eccentric with advanced, ordinary abilities—for instance, enhanced intelligence, strength, agility, etc. A two signifies someone who obtained their powers at some point in their lifetime—this is Thomas. A three, and the most feared, is someone unfortunately born with these advanced abilities, therefore permanently cleaving themselves from the rest of society.  
Thomas knew he would be a two, and he doubted he deserved much more than a blue tag on account of his docile past and the lack of damage he could do with his abilities.  
The man who sat across from him at the table had other ideas.  
This well-dressed figure explained in simple words and a slow voice that Roman was a potential threat. While, sure, he lacked the ability to take outright action against any person, his newfound inability to be injured prevented him from being stopped should he want to. In that way he was a liability; a danger to all those around him.  
Should he go rogue, there would be no controlling him. Therefore, he is dangerous enough to warrant constant observation, preferably from inside a cell.  
Despite Thomas’ apparent revulsion at the concept, the well-dressed man went on.  
There was, however, an alternative. As Harborview grows in size with it does CASTE, and the growth of CASTE always seems to predate the appearance of rogue Eccentrics who wish to use their powers for their own malicious gain. CASTE wished to implement the License to Hero program into Harborview by providing them with their own hero to guard the streets in ways Collectors and Controllers never could.  
Thomas seemed to be the most likely candidate for this program.  
In return to agreement, Thomas would be marked down to a yellow—a color far more accepted by society and free to live as they please. He would also be paid heavily in return for his services, with fine checks being mailed out to his guardians until he became old enough to accept them himself.  
Thomas hadn’t the chance to discuss such a life changing decision with his parents, whom he had previously always trusted to guidance.  
He was on his own, with only the time the well-dressed man granted to him in this bland room.  
In the end, Thomas did accept. He walked away with not one but two tags pinned to his ear: a yellow one representing his capabilities and a golden one revealing to all those who cared to look that he was a hero.  
For weeks his usual school curriculum became replaced with CASTE’s hero training program. He learned how better to use his abilities, received suits and gadgets to help him in the field, was taught to fight, and in time was introduced to the public as Impervious: Harborview’s resident hero.  
Years passed of Thomas living this double life. His days became split between school and work in the morning and Impervious at night, with Impervious always seeming to take the greater of the cut.  
Still, he was content. Not happy per se—CASTE’s controlling nature as well as the constant eating guilt that he was locked in a contract with one of the most tyrannical corporations which existed prevented that—but he considered himself far better off than he would be locked in a cell day and night as the well-dressed man had once threatened.  
In time, Impervious became more of Thomas than Thomas did. He became enveloped by responsibilities he wanted to do right, fans he wanted to please, charities he wanted to support, and the word Impervious became a name rather than an alias.  
That was, until he met Roman.  
Thomas had been requested into CASTE’s hospital facilities nearly a decade after taking on the mantle of Impervious. Apparently, a child had been turned into CASTE by parents who had claimed to no longer want him, and best attempts to calm him all fell short. They could only hope a well-known figure would sway the child’s attitude.  
Willing to help, as well as curious of the abandoned child, Thomas agreed and eventually came face to face with the child.  
He was a small kid, skinny, but with bright brown eyes filled with an emotion which almost seemed out of place for a bed-ridden child. He was tanned as well, darker than Thomas himself, with a head of hair oddly red in the light. There was no asking the nurses and doctors working if the child was Eccentric; he could see it.  
A pair of golden wings, corporeal and intangible, yet alive and moving all the same, rested at his back, twitching as he moved, thrashing when he did. Large wings framing such a small child.  
The sight may have been magical were it not for the large bandage covering much of his forehead—an injury, the doctor’s said, which the parents hadn’t disclosed before dropping him, and which the child himself couldn’t seem to recall.  
For a while, Thomas simply played the part of Impervious he knew to be. He spoke in a loud, regal voice, smiled as much as he could, he told tale of daring adventures which the child beamed at, nearly rolling off his bed in his excitement. The most progress, though, was made as Thomas.  
It was made as he walked in one day, suit packed away, and simply had the opportunity to speak with the child.  
He told Thomas his name—Roman Santiago—but that seemed the furthest extent of which he remembered save a few words of Spanish he often dropped mid-sentence. What the nurses had taken for distrust or reluctance had been true ignorance. Roman truly remembered nothing of before, not even how he had gotten his powers, or who his parents were.  
He was a broken child with a broken mind to match.  
There had been one night when a storm had rolled in over Harborview. The sea nearby had roared, waves threatened to wash their city out to sea, thunder shook the CASTE building repeatedly with lights flickering at every sight of lightning.  
The child had been terrified.  
Roman, a seven-year-old boy who had proclaimed loudly time and time again to be the bravest in the hospital (which wasn’t much competition, considering the only other residents were a few elderly Eccentrics who couldn’t handle on their own) had cowered near to the point of tears at sound of thunder crashing, and Thomas’ heart had broken.  
He refused to leave Roman even as many assured him that the boy would be fine and Harborview needed him outside. He laid in bed alongside Roman, humming softly into the boy’s hair songs his mother used to sing and rubbing circles along his back, urging the storm to pass so that Roman might sleep.  
The storm did pass, but not before Roman fell asleep in Thomas’ arms, clinging to his shirt with clenched fists and a face buried in his chest. Thomas, not having the heart to move, stayed there, holding the child tightly until he, too, fell away into sleep.  
When Thomas had woken, the corporeal wings of Roman were gone, leaving nothing but the blue tag at the boy’s ear to suggest he was Eccentric.  
After that moment, Thomas hadn’t the heart to be apart from Roman for much longer. When CASTE announced to Thomas that Roman was near being discharged and sent out to a foster home for further care Thomas had rioted, furious.  
How was it fair to throw Roman into a home with people who wouldn’t care for him, at least not how Thomas did? Roman hadn’t made his parents throw him out. Roman hadn’t made himself Eccentric.  
Roman didn’t deserve to be unwanted.  
The CASTE workers above him argued against it. They thought it was stupid and Thomas should busy himself with being Impervious, not a father, but Thomas couldn’t be dissuaded. If CASTE wanted Impervious, Thomas needed Roman.  
And Roman he got. He had taken great joy in guiding Roman home, showing him around the apartment building, helping him settle into the room Thomas had spent his last few paychecks on getting sorted.  
Regardless, Roman hadn’t fallen asleep in that room his first night.  
He had fallen asleep in Thomas’ arms, curled up in the chair which faced towards the window.  
The two had collapsed together—as they henceforth would always be—looking out at the skyline.


End file.
